


NASCAR

by cockles_take_the_wheel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cockles_take_the_wheel/pseuds/cockles_take_the_wheel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vicki & Misha discuss NASCAR and what it means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	NASCAR

 

  
 

 

"NASCAR?" Vicki’s voice was doing that slightly lilting thing it did when she was accusatory.

"Yes, alright. NASCAR. I got some free tuckets and i thought Jensen might like to go." Misha answered while he packed his bag. “It would be waste to say no.” He shrugged and headed to the bathroom to get his shaver and toothbrush.

"First golf, now NASCAR… you see what’s happening here, don’t you?" She had her hands on her hips and her lips curled at the tips. It was the same ‘I know something you don’t know’ look she got when she was infuriatingly right about something really obvious that he’d overlooked.

"No. What?" He shoved his underwear into his brown leather bag with more force than was necessary.

"You  _like_  him.” she said, her crooked little smile lighting up her eyes.

"What? That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends." He didn’t have time to have this discussion, he still needed to get to Jensen’s so they could drive to Vegas for the weekend race.

She remained silent while Misha struggled to get his pants into a shape that would fit in his bag.

"And, besides… I mean, even if I did, if there was anything… it doesn’t matter. Jen’s… he’s not, you know, like me. He’s like the straightest guy I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t know a homosexual thought if it slapped him across the face. I could be jerking off right in front of him and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash." He finally finished cramming everything into his bag and looked up just in time to see the smile vanish from Vicki’s face.

"Mish—"

"Forget it. I’m fine." he brushed off her attempt to console him.

"I didn’t know. You never said." and this time, when she reached for his hands, he let her. "I wouldn’t have teased if I’d known you really liked him."

"I know."

"How come you’ve never told me?" She tilted her head to the side and Misha sighed.

"What’s the point? He’s oblivious. And, I don’t know, we haven’t really - ever since Rachel… and I started on the show, and the kids, things have been harder for us. I didn’t want you to think—"

"No!" she interrupted him and took his face in her hands. "I  _know_  you love me, and our life and our kids. You show me that every day. But I understand the need for variety, and I know you can’t always help who you fall in love with.” She smiled sadly, no doubt remembering their failed ménage à trois partner and her former best friend, Rachel.

"Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to." Misha said and kissed her cheek lightly.

"You should tell him." Vicki said as she pulled away to continue folding Maison’s cloth diapers.

"It’d just make it weird. And I like what we have now. It’s good." But even he could hear how miserably he sounded. "Vick, I don’t know what to do." And for the first time since Maison was born, he felt like he was on the verge of tears.

"Oh, shhhh." She hushed him and ran her hands down his face. Even when he was crying about how much he loved someone else, he loved Vicki. She was his core, his consummate, his forever partner. She understood why he needed this, why he was going to car races and playing golf and listen to country rock music and changing who he was.

And when the weight got to be too much, this one-sided affection that left him feeling twisted and aching when Jensen would laugh at his jokes and touch his face and play along and then randomly snap at him to ‘cut it out’, Vicki was the one who helped him piece himself back together. “Why doesn’t he want me?” Misha asked, putting a voice to the deepest fear he’d had for the past four years. It’s what ate at him on long, cold, lonely nights in Vancouver when he couldn’t go home for the weekends. When he missed his kids and his wife, and what it felt like to be touched with reverence and love.

"I don’t know, honey." she shushed him, like one of the kids, and kissed his temples. "I don’t know." And they sat like that for a few minutes, while Misha pulled himself back together. It was quiet, and nice, to finally talk to Vicki about the thing he’d been trying to avoid for years.

It was freeing. "Should I just stay home?"

"No, you should go." She nodded to him, and Misha could feel her sincerity. "But if you never tell him how you feel, he may never know. Some men are clueless that way." She said with a smile and Misha knew she was talking about  _him_  too. It was one of her favorite digs about him, how someone who wrote poetry could be so emotionally clueless.

"But what if he’s disgusted, or won’t speak to me anymore. What if things change onset?"

"And what if he’s interested, or curious, or didn’t know how to approach the subject and has been waiting for three years for you to bring it up. You never know, Mish. He could surprise you. And if he doesn’t, then at least you were honest. And no matter what happens, we’re here for you. Our little, strange family. We will always be here for you."

**Author's Note:**

> image credit: [[X](http://jensenacklesmishacollins.tumblr.com/post/47180557601)]


End file.
